Naturally, as an homage to the aforementioned, the third installment of FACE TIME WITH FORA /had/ to revolve none other than our Venezuelan dream boy, Devendra Banhart: the man with the best beard. Peruse:
My friends all thought I was pretty weird,
When I fell in love with your freak-folky beard.
But I loved the way you sang about ducks,
So I was like “know what, ‘friends’? I give zero f****s”.
You shaved your beard in 2009,
I was mad, but to me you were still super fine.
FF 2 years, my life would be 4ever changed,
The moment I saw you in that Oliver People’s campaign.
Now you’re kind of clean and so super fashion,
Despite this, your face will remain my passion.
Listening to waves crash, we’d enjoy, I’m sure,
Holding hands cliffside at sunset on a blanket in Big Sur. (PG13)
Your middle name is Obi,
As in Obi Wan Kenobi.
I think that’s pretty ill,
I bet u have a license to chill.
Wow Devendra Banhart
Ur just so…art
Hair so lush, beard so thick
Please, can I be your main chick?
Or maybe I can be your little Carmensita
And if that doesn’t work out I’ll make u a healthy vegetarian pita
I want nothing but 2 caress your beard
Resembling somewhat of a homeless man, u r not what you appear
Da man of my dreams in tailored pants
Maybe if we could chill- you’d give me a chance??
Like gum on a sole, my love 4 u is stuck
So let me be your fine petting duck
**A poem of the acrostic variety**
Deep…is what our love could be
Everything that touches your beard is important
Very sensual. Very Venezuela
Eyyyy, please love me
Nothing else matters (read: my pride) when your beard looks like that
Deep in love…is What Will We Be (at the end of this poem)
Research – I’m good at it – I have a folder of your face on my desktop
Art[ists are my type] – I think we’re getting married
Dearest Devendra, please don’t be alarmed
if you ever find me hiding, in the back of your car.
And if you hear noises at night, avoid the urge to leap
you have nothing to fear – it’s just me – taking pics while you sleep.
I long for the day when we have our first chance encounter,
All my shrine is missing is a lock of hair – from you – my favourite indie rocker.
Editor’s note: Lmao
And another from the *Anonymous Straight Male Ghost Writer*…
Devendra, I surrender.
You’ve given pieces of yourself to poetry, to art, to sound
This is your love, and it knows no bounds,
No race, no gender
A king of Gods, you are crowned.
Your work, is fingertips
Sailing like ships
Softly along my spine
Seeping into the crevices like sands in an hourglass
It reminds me I’m alive
So when you’ve given your work your whole heart, Banhart
As artists tend to do over time,
You will always have mine.
Sweet baby Devendra, I think we’d be pals
With those luscious brown locks you’d be one of the gals
We could braid each other’s hair and swap knit cardis
Finish each other’s sentences and awkwardly sway at parties
With all your strange habits I’d never call you weird
I’d even comb the knots out of your beard
You WERK those tattoos right above your nipples
I bet you give very nice arm tickles
Señor Devendra Banhart,
You folk-rock my world with your art.
Your beard is very manly,
and your website has hip typography.
Your name is too long,
for me to express in an acrostic song.
But I enjoy that your logo is a milk jug,
My heartstrings, you have tug.
TBH I didn’t really know who you are
But after Googling your name, I’ve come pretty far
Your voice and your face should be dubbed as perfection
My love for you is strong, like my WiFi connection
Also, did it hurt when you fell out of heaven?
On a scale out of 10, I’d rate you an 11.